


At Her Mercy

by Desdimonda



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Dominant Mercy, F/M, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7361947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small splinter of Overwatch are on a covert undercover mission, but during it all, Angela feels an overwhelming desire for Genji, and to take control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Her Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> I got a few requests for more smut and specifically, Dominant!Mercy on tumblr, and here we are. :)

One step, two. **  
**

One glance, two.

Angela walked across the room, her dress trailing behind a foot as the drape of the black material hung from her body like air, glancing off her skin, weightless, ethereal.

She made every step, count. She made every glance, matter. The lights of the ballroom caught the shimmer of her jewels, silver and diamond, draped from her neck and woven through her hair. They matched the jewelled detailing of her black dress. A dress that contrasted with her skin, with her white hair, fallen loosely around her shoulders.

People stopped, people stared. Their eyes followed her as she walked, their words fell away to a breath as she talked.

But none of them mattered. None of them, but _him_.

Genji stood in the shadows shrouded by a black akin to her dress and watched, transfixed by her beauty, by her grace, by her presence.

By, _her_.

They had arrived separately, as was planned. Angela had come with Lucio on her arm, dressed in the finest of tuxedos he owned. Fareeha and Hanzo had arrived not long after. McCree and Morrison hung outside; waiting, ready with Genji as he secured the perimeter, hidden in the shadows. It was the most elegant mission she had ever undertaken, and oh did she feel _exquisite_.

She’d had many hands offered to dance and graciously, she had taken up each one with a smile. She knew Genji watched; she could feel his gaze, steps away from the ballroom as she danced with men, with women, her body a breath apart, her leg exposed with every step from the slit that ended at the top of her thigh.

And when she had danced with Fareeha, she knew he watched, every step. Her lips had brushed against her neck, lightly, gently, strands of Fareeha’s hair catching on her tinted lips. He didn’t watch out of jealousy; he watched out of happiness. For he and Fareeha both loved her. And neither of their love was a secret.

As her fingers slipped free of Fareeha’s hand, Angela turned away with a smile, walking with ease, each foot clicking over the ballroom floor from her elegant heels. Heels that pointed her toes, that arched her feet, that made her stand an extra four inches high. She towered over most women and some men, the tilt of their heads just slight, just brief, but just enough. Enough to make Angela feel like a queen; a queen in power, with her subjects surrounding her, following her with their eyes, with their steps and bestowing her with their words.

She reached the edge of the ballroom and slipped past a couple, lost in each other as they kissed. The voile curtain slid over her bared arm as she walked through the exit and out into the vast, dimly lit gardens. Here, the music of the ballroom was a distant melody, a background to the click of her steps; to the contented sigh that passed her lips as she walked, bathed in the brilliant white of the moon’s light. It shone full, it shone bright, it’s light unending, beside it’s swathe of stars.

Angela trailed her fingers across the low hanging leaves of a willow tree as she walked, the music of the ballroom growing fainter as she walked. The scent of the flowers at her feet whipped past with the breeze. A breeze that caught her white hair, draped loosely around her shoulders, tipped bright by the moonlight.

A step, two, made her pause. A rustle of leaves, a hiss of metal.

She smiled as she felt a hand glide along her arm, cold cybernetic fingers welcome against her warm skin. And then lips - his lips - pressed firmly against the curve if her neck as he pushed aside her hair, wispy strands catching in his kiss.

Angela let slip a breathy moan as he held her, as he touched her, as he kissed her, feeling his body press against her back, the hold on her arm growing firm. His other hand had already crept down her body and beneath the slit at her thigh, pulling apart her legs.

But Angela had a different idea.

Pulling from his hold with a short, sharp motion, she turned, catching the surprise in Genji’s eyes. Angela smiled as she stepped forward once, twice, pressing a hand to Genji’s chest as she pushed him back. Back against the trunk of a tree, ensuring their tryst was shadowed from anyone who decided to look their way.

She watched his lips part as he collided with the tree; she watched his hands, tentative, reach out to touch her, to hold her. Angela took one. She pinned it by his head, soft fingers pressing into the bark as she held his hand at the wrist, like a vice. Her body swayed as she took the final step towards him, the black silk that clung to her skin rippled, teasing, showing of the curves, the nicks of her body that Genji thought he knew; that he thought he had memorised. But this dress, this demeanour, this aura she exuded, it made him see something new, every time he looked.

Angela pressed a thigh between his, parting his legs, roughly, as she pressed herself against him, watching the steam escape the vents on his shoulders, on his chest, shrouding them both in a haze of steam. It gave her an ethereal beauty, a quality that heightened her presence. And the fact that Genji had to tilt back his head; that he had to look _up_ to her - it made the heart that still beat beneath his metal chest, miss a beat. It made the hiss of his vents loud; it made the only flesh that remained on his face, blush red; it made him bite his lip, teeth grating against the cybernetic mesh that was now his lip, that she had made, for him.

Her thigh pressed against his crotch, and on instinct, he gasped. There were very little nerve sensors on the outside, but it was the sensation - or the _memory_ of the sensation - that made Genji gasp. That made his lips curl to a smile as she gazed down, the shawl of her white hair falling forward as she did, catching him in a kiss. A kiss that he had waited for; that he had imagined; that he _needed_.

Her hand still held one arm in place, but her other wound around his neck, his head, until it sought the solitary ribbon that hung from his head; silk, black, like her dress. She wound it around her fingers, lightly, as they kissed, her body slipping against his, silk catching the metal ridges, the synthetic muscle; the green glow, shifting in tandem to his emotions, to every move he made.

And then, with a short, sharp tug, she pulled on the ribbon, and tilted back his head, breaking their kiss.

Genji gasped, looking up at her as she stood those few inches higher, but she may well have towered ten feet; she may well have wore a crown.

“On your back,” she commanded, letting slip the ribbon from her fingers.

And he, obeyed.

The grass felt soft as he laid back, the stars her wings, the moon her halo, as she stood above him, as she slowly descended and knelt above him, the silk of her dress parting to the tip of her thigh. One hand sank into the grass by his head, and the other slowly trailed from his thigh, to his waist, to his chest, to his neck, touching all the spots where she knew there were nerve sensors wired - where she knew he could feel touch; where he could feel, her.

She leaned forward, her white hair falling forward, the curled ends sliding over the metal of his chest, illuminated green by the circled vents. Her smile was small, and she leaned closer, drawing a kiss along the slide of his cybernetic jaw, feeling the synthetic flesh, so familiar, beneath her tinted lips; against the tip of her tongue; against the grate of her teeth.

The hand at his neck crept around and sought his ribbon once again, but this time, she wasn’t gentle. With a short, sharp tug, she tore it off, leaving a worn, ragged edge, the threads fraying, falling away to the lick of a breeze as she pulled it forward.

Genji gasped at the sensation, at the rough motion that jerked his head. But he couldn’t hide the curve of his lips at the gesture. It made him quiver; it made him want to flip her over and take her; take her now, _now_. And he knew she would let him.

But he couldn’t. For she had a hold - a hold far more powerful than physical. A hold he could not break; a hold he did not want to break.

Pushing both arms above his head and into the grass, Angela wound the ribbon around his arms, around his wrists, and bound them together, tying tightly. She gave him little time to adjust, for she hoisted the black silk of her dress to her waist, bunching it at her thighs, revealing she had in-fact not worn anything underneath.

She shifted forward, and with one knee sinking into the grass at the side of his head, followed by the other, she sank down onto his face, her slick, wet slit meeting his lips at last. And he, obliged, freely, happily, gliding his tongue along her wet flesh, pursing his lips around the bud of nerves at the crest of her slit as she gently, rocked, and rocked, splaying a hand over the trunk of the tree.

Her nails, short, painted, dragged against the bark as she moaned into the night air, strands of her white hair sticking to her lips as she moved. Her body, shuddered; one hand dragged against the tree; one held back the silk of her dress as she hastily tucked it under itself against her stomach.

She watched him struggle against his bonds. She watched as his hands, his arms, pulled against the thin silk ribbon. She watched it strain as he tried to pull free, desperate to touch her, to help, to guide her, to do, _something_.

But he couldn’t. He was bound. He was helpless.

He was at her _mercy._

Her moans were a melody, a song, as they slid past her lips, filling the night air, unashamed, accompanied by the gentle hiss of her jewellery as she moved. He rolled his tongue once, twice, feeling the swell of her bud pulse each time; feeling her react to his tongue, to his touch. The feeling of skin, of synthetic flesh, of metal, rubbing, gliding against her skin was ecstasy. A cacophony of desires, swelling to a peak, far quicker than she wanted. Her body was shuddering already, her mind was fogging, her breaths were short, her moans were loud.

She paused, pulling back, just enough so he could catch a breath. She glanced down; his face was stained with her fluids, and she watched, her fingers scratching against the bark as he took his breaths; short, sharp, ragged, his tongue gliding along the edge of his lips.

Angela leaned down and kissed him. She kissed him hard, tasting herself against her lips, against her tongue, as she shuffled back, her wet slit gliding against his cold, metal chest. A hiss, a whir, and his vents released a wave of steam, shrouding them both in a haze as they kissed.

One knee at either side of his waist, Angela trailed a hand to his crotch, pressing two fingers on the spots that she knew; that she had constructed for him, by request. With a hiss, with a pleasant clink of metal, of hydraulics, his cybernetic cock slid from behind the retracted metal panel. Angela wound her fingers around the length, pressing her touch into the synthetic flesh, feeling the metal ridges, tipped intricately with nerve sensors.  

Genji’s body arched into her touch, and again, he fought against his binds, instinctively. He wanted to touch her, to feel her. But he also, didn’t. He knew he had the strength to get free, he knew he could overpower this thin silk ribbon and her physical binds - but it wasn’t her physical power that was keeping him in control.

As he gazed up at her, bent over, just a little, the silk top of her dress pushed aside, exposing a pale breast, caught by moonlight; as her fingers wound around his cock, feeling, pulling forth a moan, a gasp, a whisper; as she moved forward, as she lifted herself, as she then slid down onto his cock, her wet, hot lips wrapping around his length, she had the power, of a queen.

And then she moved, her hips rocking as her hands clung to his shoulders, seeking a firm hold. She moved fast, she moved  hard, pressing her body down onto his cock as far as she could, dragging her lips against his crotch, staining the metal.

Her breasts bounced with each motion, her hair slipping forward as she moaned, as she breathed, as she threw back her head in a cry of pleasure, unintelligible words whispering against her lips as she rode him, beneath the moonlight.

All he could do was move with her, against her, pushing his cock into her, hard, watching the way it curved her body, elegantly, the silk dress falling against her skin, down her arm, exposing more of her pearly skin.

She trailed a hand over a breast as she dragged her teeth against her lip. Thighs spread apart, just a fraction more, just enough, her bare knees dragging against the grass, her skin, stained. And with one hand securely on his thigh, fingers splayed, she leaned back, curving her body, letting the moonlight catch the angles of her frame, illuminated, juxtaposed against the inky hues of the garden at night.

She moved, faster, harder.

Genji buckled his hips, watching her reaction, seeing her hand hover before her chest, suspended in mid air as she moved, as the intensity of her moans grew, as her breaths, quickened. He was close, and he felt like it had barely begun. Still struggling against his binds, more unconscious instinct than anything, Genji writhed against the grass, Angela’s light body barely a weight upon him as he pressed into her rhythm, as he felt every slide of her walls against his length, her skin dragging against his cybernetic, synthetic flesh.

He turned his head. He bit his lip. He cried, unashamed. His thighs twitched, his feet pointed to a tip as his nerve sensors reached their peak and brought him to his climax, sending the sensation through his whole body, letting him remember, letting him, feel. The lights on his body, shimmered, reacting to the intensity of his emotions, and with a hiss of hydraulics, his vents let out a hiss of steam, coiling through the cold, night air.

And with one last, long, roll of her hips, Genji’s climax her catalyst, her hand on his thigh scratching against the metal, she reached her peak, her body seizing for a breathless moment as she sat, motionless, bathed in the moonlight, her hair falling around her shoulders, her dress, settling against her skin.

Her body trembled, it shuddered as the last threads of her climax fell away. Genji, pulling against his binds, snapped the ribbon, and with one, swift, motion, he caught Angela in his arms and laid her on her back, leaning over her as they said, nothing.

She trailed her fingers along his face, along the only flesh that remained, her thumb pressing against his lip. Angela dipped her head, submissively, her eyes shrouded in a shock of white hair.

“Your turn.”

Genji’s hand slid around her neck and gently wrapped around her white locks, before he tugged hard, pulling back her head.


End file.
